The Magic Stream
by Culfinwen Calromene
Summary: Two little Rohirric youngsters go on a search for the treasure of the magic horses of their imagination.


> Author's Note: Regn and Ceafor are my RP character's little niece and nephew. Too fun to write about. XD
> 
> * * *

The Magic Stream 

"Hurry up, Ceafor!"  
  
The girl's voice was shrill, with a hint of irritation. She paused on a rock and looked almost disdainfully behind at her brother, wisps of her black hair blowing in the breeze. Her brother glared back at her, and clambered onto the rock beside her.  
  
"My name is Háma." he answered her grumpily.  
  
She tossed her braid over her shoulder and began her way across the meadow once more without answering. Ceafor – no one ever called him Háma, for his childhood nickname had stuck, and he usually referred to himself as Ceafor as well – followed her with a slight sigh. Normally he was good-natured, but his sister was enough to get on anyone's nerves... well, not exactly. For reasons that Ceafor could never explain, everyone thought Regn was an angel.  
  
Ceafor was on the stocky side, like his father; he was muscular even for a seven-year-old. Regn was his twin, but she looked younger and more innocent. She was the leader of the two, the one who formed all their ideas and plans of all kinds. Ceafor was content to follow, and normally he idolized his sister – except when she was beating him while running. No matter that she could beat all the boys her age in running, it still hurt Ceafor's rather sensitive pride when she easily outstripped him.  
  
"Remind me why we are doing this anyway?" he asked when he finally caught up to her. Like a deer, she paused in mid-step and flashed her brilliant smile at him.  
  
"We're looking for the hidden treasure of the magical horses, of course!"  
  
"Oh, right." Ceafor said quickly. Regn smiled dreamily, lost in her imaginings of faery horses with wings who could transform into beautiful winged people when the moon turned red. Ceafor took the opportunity to run ahead, but she caught up to him swiftly and tugged on his arm.  
  
"No, no, Ceafor, you're going the wrong way!" she exclaimed, amusement in her gray eyes. "We have to go this way."  
  
She pulled his arm again and ran off into a grove of trees near a river. "Culfinwen's Grove" they called it, after their aunt, their father's sister who was a hælend with the Cavalry, and a momentous figure in the twins' minds. Legend had it – well, legend according to Regn, for whom "Auntie Culfy" was the inspiration of everything – that the maiden had waited there for her "romantic beloved", as Regn called him, before the twins were even alive.  
  
Regn stood for a moment on the bank, and Ceafor stopped at her side.  
  
"What now?" he asked, and Regn turned to him with shining eyes.  
  
"Háma, hush!"  
  
"What is it?" Ceafor asked quietly, his gray eyes wide.  
  
"I hear something!"  
  
They crossed the river carefully, getting wet up to their chests while at it. Regn struggled against her wet skirts in the stream, but Ceafor held her arm so she would not be pulled away by the current. Regn was feather- light and almost too slender, but she had a will to match that of someone twice as big and twice as old as her.  
  
"What way did it come from?" Ceafor stage-whispered, and Regn turned on him with her gaze terrible as a dragon's. Ceafor almost quailed, but Regn only said,  
  
"Hush!"  
  
After a moment of them both standing still, the lass started off towards the meadows on the other side of the field. Ceafor remained quiet for a while, but soon his insatiable curiosity took hold.  
  
"Regn, what did you hear?"  
  
She smiled mysteriously, taking delight in teasing her brother. However, in a moment she relented – she did adore Ceafor, just not openly – and whispered,  
  
"I heard a horse's whinny."  
  
Ceafor's gray eyes took on a look of absolute wonder and admiration.  
  
"You – you were right!"  
  
"Of course," Regn replied as haughtily as is possible while wringing out a sopping wet skirt. "I am always right."  
  
Ceafor decided this was not the time to remind her about the time she suggested that if they planted some dried fruit in the soil around the house, it would grow overnight and grow into dried fruit trees. Nothing had happened, and Ceafor had been furious with her for all of a week; he did have a reason for his anger, as the dried fruit had been a birthday treat from his mother. The only thing that kept Ceafor from "hating" her for a week and a day was that he had eaten half of it in private before he gave the rest to Regn to be buried. Besides, he soon grew bored, and no one had an imagination like Regn. He had by that time forgotten that it was her imagination that had destroyed the fruit in the first place.  
  
He only coughed slightly in reply, and turned in the direction Regn indicated. They walked side by side for almost an hour, with the determination that only young children have, resting often as they got more exhausted. The sun was setting, and they were no closer to finding the faery horse's treasure than they were before. Finally, Regn sprang up from her resting place with a cry that restored both their spirits and filled their hearts with excitement.  
  
"Look, Háma! Horses!"  
  
"Horses!" echoed Ceafor cheerfully.  
  
Indeed, there were two horses, one gray and one golden-chestnut, grazing peacefully in a field. Regn let out a long sigh of awe, and murmured,  
  
"They are the Horses of the Sun and the Moon!"  
  
A gasp of appreciation came from Ceafor. They started forward, stumbling in the dark that had arisen quite suddenly. The horses looked at them in surprise, but being young, they scurried away when the two children drew near. Regn cried out, but Ceafor remained silent.  
  
"Why do they run away?" she whispered, turning to her stolid brother for comfort as she did when her spirits suddenly dropped.  
  
"Perhaps they are shy." Ceafor comforted her. Reassured by this, Regn wiped her eyes and led him towards the horses again. This time, however, they were interrupted.  
  
"Lá!" called a voice. "Who is there?" And then upon seeing the exhausted children, the owner of the voie blinked and exclaimed, "Westu Hal , little ones!"  
  
Regn collapsed just as the owner approached, and as she was lifted up by strong arms, she looked to see a young man of around her aunt Lêoma's age, with smiling blue eyes. She sighed, and placed her head upon his shoulder in the innocence known only to children. He smiled and stroked her hair, saying to her,  
  
"Now, my wee lassie, what are you doing here?"  
  
"We're searching for the horse's treasure." Regn sighed. A hot tear trickled from her eyes to splash on the young man's neck, and he set her down suddenly.  
  
"Now, now, why so glum, dearie?"  
  
Regn burst into sobs and could not answer, so the young man turned an inquiring glance to Ceafor. The boy patted his sister's shoulder and said,  
  
"Well... the horses left. And there's no treasure."  
  
The young man frowned for a moment, and then his blue eyes lit up. He drew something from his pocket and smiled at Regn hopefully.  
  
"Perhaps the horses left these." he suggested, opening his palm to display two gold coins. The delight in Regn's eyes was more than enough payment. She grasped one excitedly, and the young man handed another to Ceafor, who gazed at it with wide eyes.  
  
"Keep it safe." the young man murmured. "And I think I shall take you home. Which do you want to ride on, the moon or the sun?"

* * *

La! – "lo!" or "oh!" in Old English; an exclamation.   
Westu Hal – Rohirric-ization of Wes þu Hal, Old English for (literally) "Be thou hale", a greeting which most likely (to the point of my knowledge) was the ancestor of the Modern English "hello". 


End file.
